


Train Hard. Stay Hard

by raiining



Series: Rookie Training Program [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sports, Anal Plug, Blow Jobs, Football | Soccer, M/M, Power Imbalance, all sex in this fic is completely consensual, captain/alternate captain/rookie, coach/rookie, minor reference to previous non- or dub-con, no slut shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2534372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/pseuds/raiining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint trains hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Train Hard. Stay Hard

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, this fic is 100% inspired by [coachpervman](http://coachpervman.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and the 'rookie training program' tag (warning: very very NSFW!) I also borrowed Coach's favourite line "train hard. stay hard" as a title for this fic. Thank you, Coach!
> 
> A HUNDRED THOUSAND THANK YOU's to my lovely betas, adamantsteve and desert_neon, who always make things better. THANK YOU LADIES. I appreciate your time and effort!

Clint trains with Coach Coulson in his office twice a day for a week. Coulson is endlessly patient with him, carefully stretching his hole and inserting wider and wider objects into Clint’s ass. Coulson has an impressive display of dildos, plugs, vibrators, and clamps. He keeps the collection in a black briefcase that lives under his desk.

By the end of the week, Clint’s reaction to the briefcase is purely Pavlonian - when he sees it, he gets instantly hard.

Coulson notices, because Coulson notices everything. “What do you feel like today, Clint?” he asks when Clint arrives for his morning drill. It’s Friday. On Saturday he’ll be introduced at the team dinner as an official rookie, and on Monday, regular team practices start. Clint has been pushing himself harder and harder - he wants to be ready. He wants to succeed as a rookie on this team.

“The purple one,” Clint says. He makes his voice as sure as he can.

Coulson trains a finger down the plastic purple plug. It’s not the thickest toy in the briefcase, not by an impressive amount, but it’s the one that’s only a hair thinner than Coulson’s own cock. Clint knows this. He’s licked, sucked, choked on, and worshipped every inch of Coulson’s cock multiple times over the past week, and he’s enjoyed every minute of it.

“If you think you’re ready for it,” Coulson finally agrees, “I’ll give it to you. You’ve done very well, Clint. You train hard. In fact, in every facet of this program, you’ve been explemplary. On the field you’ve been amazing and in this office, well,” he smiles, “I can honestly say that I’ve never seen a rookie approach training with such enthusiasm. I’ve enjoyed this. Very much.”

Clint smiles proudly. “Thank you, Coach.”

Coulson hesitates. “The problem,” he admits, “is that I’ve enjoyed this maybe _too_ much. I want you to take the purple plug, Clint. I want you to take it and then, if you’re okay with it, I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you so bad, I want to bend you over my desk and just ram my hard cock inside of you.”

Clint sucks in a breath. “I want that, too. Fuck, Coach. I’ve wanted that since I first met you and this team.”

Coulson fingers tighten on the wood of his desk. “That’s the problem, Clint. I need to be sure that you’re doing this for the right reasons. I need to be sure that _I’m_ doing this for the right reasons. The purpose of the rookie training program is to service the team, not the coach. My role in this program is purely instructional. As much as I want to fuck you and keep you, Clint, I can’t do that. My job is to get you ready for the team.”

“I understand,” Clint says, quickly. “Honestly, I do. I’m doing this for the team. I want to be able to take care of them. I want to be the best rookie and the best player that I can be, but,” he worries at his lower lip, debating how honest he should be, but finally decides just say what he’s been thinking every night in his bunk for the past seven days, “but I want to get fucked by you, too. I want to come in here every morning and get fucked by your cock. I want walk out onto the practice field with your come in my ass. I want to play soccer - good, hard soccer - and then go back to the locker room and get fucked as many times as the team wants to take me. I want to suck them all down. I want to do it again and again and again, and then, at the end of the day, I want to come back to your office and relax on your couch. I want to read strategy reports, and suck you off, and then discuss line-ups and power plays. I want - fuck, Coach. I want it _all_.”

Coulson stares at him. 

Clint blushes. He’s said too much. That’s always been his problem, him and his stupid _mouth_ \- 

But then Coulson pulls him over to his side of the desk, yanking him forward until he’s right in Clint’s face. He kisses him, working his mouth open, sucking on his tongue while he reaches down and grabs a double-handful of Clint’s ass.

“ _Yes,_ ” Coulson gasps, his voice hot and desperate. “Yes, Clint, I want _that_ \- ” And then they’re kissing again.

Clint keens, high and needy, and Coulson doesn’t let him suffer long. He cups Clint through his shorts, stroking him to full hardness, and then works his soccer shorts down until they fall in a heap on the floor. 

He pushes, and Clint turns eagerly, bracing himself against the desk as he presents his ass to his coach. It’s a position that’s become second nature to him over the past week. 

Coulson licks a broad stripe up his ass, tonguing his hole and making Clint gasp, before dragging thick fingers wet with lube across Clint’s hole. His hand curls, and Clint moans as Coulson very carefully stretches him open. It’s much easier than it was a week ago.

“Fuck, Clint,” Coulson says, his voice haggard. “You’ve done so well, come so far. Look at you now, so open and ready for me. You’re ready for the thick purple plug, aren’t you, boy?”

“Yes, Coach,” Clint groans. “I’m ready. Stick it in me, Coach. I can take it.”

Coulson pushes up his shirt and sucks kisses across his lower back. “Yes, you are, aren’t you, sport? You’re ready to take it like a champ.”

“Yeah, I am. Give it to me, give it to me - oh!” The hard, thick tip of the plug nudges against his hole.

“Yeah, baby,” Coulson murmurs, working the plug slowly into Clint’s body. “That’s it. Take my thick hard toy.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Clint gasps. It feels so _good_. It’s wider than the other toys he’s taken, bigger, but he can do it. He spreads his legs and arches his back. “Yes, please, give it to me.”

“I will,” Coulson promises. “That’s it. Almost there.” The widest part of the plug pushes against Clint’s walls. He consciously relaxes, and it slips inside. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Clint pants, his ass flexing around the toy. It feels so _big._

“So good,” Coulson praises. He gives Clint a moment to get used to it, and then starts rocking the plug in and out of Clint’s hole. “So good, Clint, look at you. All stuffed full. What a good boy, you are. What a good rookie. Good job, sport.”

“ _Coach,_ ” Clint gasps, feeling full to the brim. “It’s so _big_. It’s so _good_. I’m going to come!”

“Not yet,” Coulson hurries to say. He fumbles at his belt. “Suck me off first, Clint. Suck me off. Show me how good you can make it with something that thick in your ass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint mutters. He wants something in his mouth. He wants _Coulson._ “Yes, _please._ ”

Coulson finally gets his cock out. “Fuck,” he groans. That’s all Clint needs to hear. He turns away from the desk and drops to his knees. The plug shifts against something inside of him and his vision whites out. Taking a quick breath in, Clint does his best to ignore the jolt of pleasure and leans forward, sucking Coulson’s eager cock into his mouth.

Coulson groans. “Oh yeah, suck my cock. Suck it. Just like that.”

“Mmm,” Clint hums. His lips are stretched around Coulson’s cock and his ass is stretched around Coulson’s plug and Clint feels perfect. He feels claimed and cared for and safe. “Please Coach,” he begs sloppily. “Please, fuck my face.”

Clint doesn’t need to offer twice. Coulson grips the back of Clint’s hair and rams his cock into Clint’s throat. Clint goes limp and just _takes_ it. As good as he’s learned to suck cock, he’s learned that he loves to do this too - be nothing but a warm, wet source of heat for someone to come inside of. 

It feels different now with such a large plug in his ass, though. After a full week of practice, he’s mostly gotten used to the sensation of sucking cock while wearing a plug, but this one feels so _big_.

The toy must be pressing against his prostate. Clint’s heard that getting fucked can sometimes feel like getting your dick stroked from the inside out, but this is the first time he’s even partially understood it. He feels like he could almost come just from this alone.

“Aa _ahh,_ ” he groans around Coulson’s cock.

Coulson pumps twice more into Clint’s mouth before becoming even more perfectly hard. Clint knows from a week of practice that when Coulson does that, it means he’s going to come soon. He relaxes his jaw and sucks on Coulson’s cock as hard as he can. 

Coulson groans, thrusts once more into Clint’s mouth, and then comes. Hot, bitter come pours down the back of Clint’s throat. He swallows reflexively, jerking his hips into the air. The plug feels good, but he wants _more._

“Fuck,” Coulson curses, slipping out of Clint’s mouth with a slurp. “Jesus _christ._ ”

“Coach,” Clint whines, unable to help himself. He climbs unsteadily to his feet. He’s so hard, he could hammer nails. “Coach, _please._ ”

Coulson leans back just far enough to study him. Clint doesn’t bother hiding how desperate he feels. “Here,” Coulson says finally, stepping back in close and slipping two fingers into Clint’s mouth. “Suck on those.” With his other hand, he slides his palm down the side of Clint’s ribs, across his hips, and back to his ass. He grips the plug firmly with one hand and pushes it in and out of Clint’s hole. Clint’s so hard that his cock brushes against his own belly. “Come for me, Clint,” Coulson says, angling the toy so it presses directly on that white-hot spot of pleasure somewhere deep inside of Clint’s ass. “Come all over yourself.”

“Fuck, _fuck,_ ” Clint moans around Coulson’s fingers. “Coach, _ahhhh._ ” 

He’s coming. He’s coming. He’s coming without anything but his own navel brushing against his cock. 

Coulson gathers him in close, ignoring the sticky mess that Clint’s getting all over his belly and thighs. “That’s good, Clint. That’s _so_ good. Fuck, Clint. You’re a _natural._ ”

“Mmm,” Clint murmurs, feeling warm and safe and satisfied. “Does that mean you’re finally going to fuck me?”

“Yes,” Coulson promises. “It does.”

 

*

 

They have to wait until the afternoon, of course. Coulson needs a chance to recharge and Clint has to practice holding something that big in his ass. Coulson sends him off to the field to run warm-ups, and Clint does laps with the purple plug lodged securely in his hole.

It feels odd, but he’s been doing these sorts of exercises for a week now, so it’s not as distracting as it once might have been. After Monday, when he’s officially a rookie of the team, he’ll have his very own plug nestled inside of him all the time, keeping him open and ready to be used. The plug will be smaller than this one, designed for long time use, and it’ll be _his_. Clint’s very much looking forward to that.

After laps he does push-ups, pull-ups, and runs suicides, and then takes himself through the obstacle course. Coulson alters the set up every couple of days, throwing in a few more tires, moving around the jump rope, and Clint goes through it all twice. It’s a pleasure to have the field to himself. By next week, the entire team will have arrived, and Clint will begin training with them.

By the time he’s finished, there’s a trickle of sweat running down his back and he feels wonderfully loose. The plug is comfortable inside of him. Clint doesn’t think it’ll throw off his aim, so he takes a couple balls and heads over to the net.

He winds up and lets go, losing himself in the familiar routine. Line, attack, draw back, and kick; line, attack, draw back, and kick. Over and over, again and again. When he’s sure that he’s ready, Clint puts the scoring grid up over the net so the entire thing is blocked except for the corners, and then he settles in to work on his aim.

It’s perfect, like always, but Clint knows better than anyone that perfection takes work. It can never be taken for granted. 

He practices until the sun is hot overhead and his legs are weak. Not disastrously so, he doesn’t want to kill himself before team practice begins, but he does want to feel the burn. When he feels like he’s finally done enough, he stops. 

Walking over to his water bottle, Clint realizes for the first time that he’s not alone on the field. There are two players running passing drills off to one side. Clint has met some of the team by now, though not officially. That won’t happen until tomorrow.

One of the two men look up. It’s the blonde one, tall and broad-shouldered, and Clint recognizes his face from try-outs. It’s Steve Rogers, the team captain. That means the other one is probably - yep. Tony Stark. Clint knows that goatee. 

“Hey,” Rogers says, sounding friendly. He jogs over to Clint, with Stark at his heels. “Nice to meet you again. I’m Steve.” He sticks out his hand.

Clint grips it firmly. “Clint Barton, rookie.” 

Steve smiles. “I know,” he says. He leans in, pressing his lips to Clint’s in a chaste, traditional kiss. 

“And I’m Tony,” Stark says, muscling his way past Rogers. His kiss is a little less chaste and a _lot_ less traditional. He all but swoops his way into Clint’s mouth, sucking hard on his tongue. “But you already knew that,” he pulls back enough to say. “Still, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Clint says, feeling slightly dizzy from the lack of air. 

“You looked good out there,” Steve says, nodding approvingly. “Odd form, but excellent results. I remember that from try-outs.”

Clint blushes. He’d picked up soccer while rotating through foster homes, never staying in one place long enough to do more than absorb a few different techniques. The resulting mish-mash was ‘exotic,’ according to the scout who’d spotted him. 

“Hey, if it works, it works,” Tony butts in. Clint gets the impression that he does that a lot. He doesn’t mind, though. Tony Stark is a sensation in the soccer world, a technical prodigy who, despite his skills, has never quite managed to gel with a team. He’s supposed to be twitchy, domineering, and have a tendency to nit-pick. All of that was before he came to SHIELD, though. The soccer world is buzzing with the news that Tony Stark may have finally found ‘his team.’

Steve, Clint knows less about. The press has written that he was small as a child. Sickly. His mother was a women’s coach and he learned a lot about reading plays from her. When he finally got quality medical care and recovered, he was able to turn those early, instructional years into the most sweeping offensive and defensive plays, but how he got from there to SHIELD is a mystery.

It’s not one that’s important now. 

“It definitely works,” Steve agrees. He looks Clint up and down. “Has Coach been training with you?”

“Yeah,” Clint says, straightening. He knows what Steve’s asking. “We’ve had a few things to work on, both on and off the pitch, but I’m getting there.”

“Ah,” Tony says, leaning in. He slides a hand down Clint’s side and reaches around to his ass. “You’re wearing his plug now, aren’t you?”

Clint flushes. 

Steve chuckles. “Don’t let Tony get to you, he was never a rookie. I was. It’s good that Coulson’s training you. I remember learning how to accommodate that kind of stretch. It takes time. Has he fucked you yet?”

Clint shakes his head. “Not yet.” He clears his throat. “Tonight.”

Tony grins. “Well, we wouldn’t want to rob him of that. Coach’s prerogative, you understand. It might be a good idea to do a little something, though.” His smile deepens. “Introduce you to the kind of team you’ll be taking.”

Clint wets his lips. _Fuck yeah,_ he wants to say. This is why he volunteered for the program, after all. This is what he wants. It’s important that he comes off as more than just an eager toy, though. He tries to keep his voice steady. “What did you have in mind?”

Tony looks at Steve, considering. “Blow jobs?”

“Blow jobs sound good,” Steve agrees. He turns back to Clint with a smile. Somehow, it manages to be wholesome and lascivious all at once. 

“I’m in,” Clint agrees, his chest thrumming with eager anticipation. “Where? Here?”

Steve chuckles. “Not here. We’d start a queue, and that’s hardly what you want for your first day. Believe me, I remember. How about the locker room?”

Clint clenches his ass around the plug in his hole. “Lead the way.”

Steve grins and turns, gesturing for Tony to take the lead. Together, the three of them walk back towards the soccer complex. Clint doesn’t expect to meet anyone, but waiting by the locker room door is Coach Coulson.

“Ah, Rogers. Stark. I see you’ve met Barton?” Coulson looks pleased, but Clint thinks there’s something vaguely proprietary behind his eyes.

Tony must catch it as well, because he chuckles. “Don’t worry, Coulson, we aren’t going to jump the line. We’re just planning a couple of friendly blowjobs, to make sure Clint feels welcome and secure in his place.” His hand comes to rest lightly on Clint’s ass, and he squeezes.

Clint bites his lip to keep in his groan. Tony’s hand on his ass plus Coulson’s plug in his hole is making him almost dizzy with want.

Something infinitesimal in Coulson’s expression loosens. “I see. Clint, is this okay with you? You know the season hasn’t officially started yet.”

Clint nods. He’d beg, but he doesn’t think he needs to. “Yes, Coach. I’m ready.”

“I know you are,” Coulson murmurs, sounding both fond and proud. “Okay, boys. Have fun.”

“We will,” Steve assures him, steering Clint with a proprietary arm on his elbow. “This way.”

They manage to get inside the locker room before Tony and Steve start going for their shorts. “Oh, fuck,” Tony groans, drawing out his cock. It’s already thick and leaking at the tip. “I want this so bad. I’m been hard for the past half hour watching him practice.”

Steve tsks him. “You should be coming more often,” he tells Tony, shucking his own shorts and rubbing a broad palm over his balls. His cock is not quite as hard as Tony’s, but it’s equally thick. It’s also impressively long, and _fuck_. Clint is suddenly very glad for all the training Coulson’s been putting him through.

Tony chuckles. “Oh, yeah,” he says to Clint, stepping closer and putting a hand on Clint’s shoulder so that he slides to his knees. There’s a kneeling pad under the benches. Clint reaches for it blindly, drawing it forward even as he starts licking at the pre-come beading on Tony’s head. “This is a well endowed team. If you think Steve looks big, you should see Thor. That man has a cock that would make a fertility god sing.”

“I can’t wait,” Clint says honestly, his voice already going hoarse with desire. Without further warning, he slides his mouth forward over Tony’s cock.

Tony groans and buries his hands in Clint’s hair. “Oh, yes. Oh, _fuck._ That’s it, baby. Suck my cock. Mm.” Dimly, Clint is aware of Tony looking over at Steve. “He’s good, captain. So very, very good.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Steve says. Clint looks up long enough to see the proud possessiveness in his eyes. Steve strokes a hand lazily over his cock. “I’ll have nothing but the best for my team.”

Clint shudders, deciding for his own sanity to refocus on Tony’s cock. It isn’t a chore. Tony’s thick and hot inside his mouth, bitter and persistent, but good. He isn’t quite as perfect as Coulson, he doesn’t fit _just right_ the way Coulson does, but he’s satisfyingly heavy on Clint’s tongue. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tony grunts, “just like that.” He takes Clint’s ministrations for a few more minutes, his hands tightening and relaxing in Clint’s hair, before his cock finally starts to twitch. “Oh, oh - !” Tony starts to come, bitter and salty in Clint’s mouth. “ _Fuck._ ”

“I told you,” Steve says, sounding smug. He walks forward while Clint is busy swallowing. “You should have been practicing.”

“What, like you have?” Tony groans, slipping out of Clint’s mouth. He drags a hand down over his cock, wiping off the wetness there. “You’ve been availing yourself of the other rookie pretty often, oh captain, my captain. How can Sam Wilson even walk straight, with all the sex you’ve been having?”

Steve doesn’t even look apologetic. He slides a thumb across Clint’s lips, silently asking permission, and when Clint nods, he offers the head of his cock. Clint opens his mouth and lets him in.

“Mmm,” Steve murmurs. “That’s good.” He looks back at Tony. “Coulson called me and asked me to give Sam a few early pointers. He said he’d be busy with Clint here, and didn’t want to neglect Sam. He knew I could help.” He thrusts shallowly in and out of Clint’s mouth. “Sam will be ready by tomorrow, the same as Clint. Isn’t that right, rookie?”

Clint nods as best as he can around Steve’s cock. Steve is _big_ , bigger than anything Clint’s taken before. He can’t even imagine what Thor’s like. 

He rocks forward to try and accommodate more of Steve’s length, but doing so presses the plug more insistently against his hole. Clint gasps, trying to shift his position, and then chokes a little when Steve goes too deep.

He coughs, and Tony laughs. He walks back over and lays a hand on Clint’s head. “There you go, Clint. You can take it.”

It’s all the encouragement Clint needs. This is his _team_. He stops focusing on the plug and concentrates instead on Steve’s cock. He applies himself diligently, using everything he’s learned before coming here and during the hours he’s spent on his knees in Coulson’s office. Sure enough, Steve soon loses his steady composure and starts rutting forward, his cock sliding in and out of Clint’s tight lips.

“Yes, yes, _yes_. Fuck. you were right, Tony. He _is_ good.”

“I told you,” Tony says, sounding smug. Clint doesn’t dare look away from Steve. The captain is close to coming, he can feel it. His balls are high and tight.

“Fuck, fuck - Clint!” That’s it, Steve’s coming. Clint swallows him down. He’s more salty than Tony, less bitter. Still different than Coulson, though. Still not as good. “Fuck, that’s amazing.”

Clint lets Steve slide out of his mouth with a wet pop. “Glad you approve, captain,” he says. His voice is hoarse.

Tony groans, using his thumb to wipe away some stray come trailing down Clint’s chin. “Oh, god. This team is going to be the death of me. Why did I think it was a good idea to go into soccer again?”

“Because you would have been bored with golf?” Steve teases. He picks up his shorts and slides them back up and over his thighs.

“Maybe,” Tony admits, grabbing his own clothes. He looks down at Clint, still on his knees, and then pointedly at the way Clint’s cock is tenting his shorts. “Do you want some help with that?”

Clint realizes for the first time that he’s hard. He trails a hand lightly over his cock, dancing along the shaft the way he likes. He rocks forward, and the plug in his ass shifts. A reminder.

“No,” Clint says, shaking his head and dropping his hand. “The coach is going to fuck me tonight. I want to be ready for him.”

Steve smiles kindly. “You like Coach Coulson, don’t you Clint?”

He flushes. “Very much.”

“That’s good,” Tony says, pulling his shorts up and heading off towards the lockers, “as long as you don’t forget that you’re here for the team, too. I know Coulson likes you, but he’s got to share, at least for a little while.”

“I know,” Clint says, nodding. He looks up at Steve. “We’ve talked about it.”

“Good,” Steve says, threading a hand through Clint’s hair once before stepping back. “Well, I’m off to the showers. Have a good afternoon.”

“I will, captain,” Clint says. He thinks of the hours that separate now and the time when he’s agreed to meet Coulson back at his office. “I’m not sure how, but I will.”

 

*

 

Clint’s received strict instructions not to leave any plug that isn’t specially designed for long-term use in his ass for too long, so the first thing he does after Tony and Steve leave is claim a private shower stall for himself. Coulson’s taught him how to remove plugs from his own ass, and how to care for himself after both inside and out. Clint avails himself of those lessons now, working the plug carefully until it’s out, and then cleaning both it and himself.

After he’s done, he dresses in a pair of soft SHIELD soccer sweats and goes in search food. He ends up running into Bruce in the cafeteria. The team physiotherapist and masseuse keeps him company while he eats. They’ve spent some time together over the past week, but haven’t gotten much beyond basic getting to know you stuff. He learns today that Bruce enjoys yoga, and they decide to retire to the gym after they’re done to go through a few poses. 

The stretching soothes away whatever kinks Clint might have had in his muscles. “Long practice?” Bruce asks, his expression peaceful. He’s much more into meditation than Clint is, but Clint thinks he might join him a time or two. It seems restful.

“Yeah,” Clint agrees, and then shrugs. “I met Tony and Steve, too.”

“Ahh,” Bruce says. His eyes glitter knowingly. “And how did _that_ go?”

Clint can’t help but give him a satisfied smile. He likes being able to take care of his team. “Good.”

Bruce chuckles. “I’ll bet. Well,” he shakes his head, standing, “don’t let them wear you out too fast.”

“I won’t,” Clint promises. He gives Bruce a wicked grin. “But if they do, I’ll be sure to come and see you.”

“You do that,” Bruce agrees, smiling. “Later, Clint.”

Clint waves good-bye and checks his watch. It’s almost time to reinsert the plug. Clint goes through one last stretching routine and then makes his way to his private room. That’s one of the perks of being a rookie - even on the road traveling from game to game, Clint is guaranteed to have own room. Of course, he’s not likely to be alone in it, but he has the right to kick people out so he can sleep. 

Putting the plug back in is a little trickier than taking it out. Clint ends up in his bed on his back, his fingers wet with lube. The temptation to give himself a couple of good pulls is very strong, but he knows that if he starts, he might not be able to stop, and he wants to be ready for Coulson tonight. In the end, he manages to avoid his own dick and focus on his ass, just like Coulson’s taught him. He stretches it as best he can and then slips in the plug.

It feels - oh, it feels _big_. Bigger than it had this morning, somehow. Clint clenches his ass around it once or twice. Coulson’s cock will be bigger, and Clint wants to be able to take it. He wants it so bad.

By the time he’s done, it’s pretty much five o’clock, which is when Coulson had said to come back to his office. Clint makes his way from the dorms to the administration wing, and knocks on Coulson’s door. 

“Come in,” Coulson calls. Clint doesn’t know if it’s his imagination, but he thinks there might be a thrum of anticipation running through Coulson’s voice. Clint grins as he turns the knob. Maybe Coulson wants this just as much as he does.

It’s a heady thought.

“Clint,” Coulson says, smiling warmly as Clint walks in. He’s sitting at his desk, papers strewn in front of him, but Clint knows him well enough by now to know that he hasn’t been working. His pen is lying off to one side, and one hand is hidden out of sight beneath his desk. “Come in. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Clint licks his lips. He has an idea of what Coulson’s other hand is doing, but he wants to be sure. “Yes, sir. I’ve been waiting, too. I mean - ” He stumbles forward, somehow finding himself on his knees. Deciding to go with it, Clint crawls to Coulson’s desk. “I want it, Coach. I’m ready. Please fuck me, sir.”

Coulson smiles. “How could I ever resist a request like that? Come here, Clint.”

Clint crawls around to Coulson’s side of the desk and is rewarded by seeing that he was right. Coulson’s got his cock out and is stroking himself. Catching Clint’s eye, Coulson deliberately slows down, his grip tightening on his hard cock. A bead of pre-come wells at the tip. Clint licks his lips.

“I’ve been sitting here all afternoon,” Coulson says, his voice husky, “imagining what it was like in that locker room. Did you go down on your knees, Clint? Like you are now? Did you suck both Steve and Tony off?”

“Yes,” Clint breathes, his gaze caught by the hunger in Coulson’s expression. “Yes, I did. Tony he - he put his hand on my head and he pushed me down, and I barely managed to get a pad under my knees before he pushed his cock into my mouth.”

Coulson groans, his hand tightening, and Clint goes on. “I sucked him dry, sir, I swallowed it all, and then I got to work on Steve. He was tougher, I had to really work him over, but I did it. I took them both.”

“I bet you did,” Coulson rasps, his hand moving quicker over his cock. “I bet you took them both so good.”

“I did, sir, and they were good, but they weren’t _you,_ sir,” Clint gasps. “They didn’t taste like you, they didn’t feel like you.” His ass clenches around the plug in his hole. “I know they wanted to fuck me, sir, but I wasn’t going to let them. I want you to fuck me first.”

Coulson lets go of his cock to draw Clint into his lap. Clint goes willing, melting into Coulson’s arms, groaning when Coulson’s tongue works it’s way inside his mouth.

“Yes,” Coulson mutters. “I’m going to fuck you first. I’m going to make it good for you, Clint, so good. You’re going to learn to take it beautifully, just like you take everything else.”

“I know you will, sir,” Clint moans. “I trust you, Coach. I want you to fuck me. I’m ready. _Please._ ”

“ _Yes,_ ” Coulson promises, and then pulls back. He’s panting and his pupils are dilated. _I did that,_ Clint thinks giddily, _me._ “Come here, Clint. Stand. Let’s do this right.”

Clint nods and shuffles to his feet, wobbling slightly. Coulson steadies him. He holds Clint’s elbow, and any lingering doubt that Clint may have had vanishes. Coulson looks warm and pleased and ready and _perfect._

“Let me undress you, Clint. I’m going to take your pants off now, okay?”

Clint nods. His heart rate picks up when Coulson’s hands go to his hips, but the routine is familiar after so many training sessions in this office. Clint steps out of his clothes when told to do so. Coulson’s warm palms trail down the sides of his legs.

“There we go. Beautiful. Turn around, Clint, show me your hole. Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“Yes, Coach,” Clint promises, bending over Coulson’s desk to present the toy lodged once again inside of him. “I wore it until lunchtime, like instructed, and then I took it out. I only put it back in a half hour ago.”

“And how did it feel going back in, rookie?” Coulson asks. His fingers trail up the back of Clint’s legs, just firm enough that it doesn’t tickle, but not hard enough to hold Clint in place. He could say no, he could say stop, and Coulson would let him stand up and walk away. Clint knows this - it’s in his contract. He’s here completely because it’s his choice.

Clint shivers. He wants this. After a week of dreaming about it, he’s ready.

“It felt good, Coach,” he answers honestly. “It felt right. I like being so filled up.”

“Mmm,” Coulson hums, bending over to press a kiss to Clint’s spine. “I know you do, rookie. I’m going to take this plug out and then I’m going to fill you up so good. Are you okay with that?”

“So okay,” Clint promises. “Please, Coach. Please fuck me.”

“I will,” Coulson agrees. His fingers go to the plug. They’re wet now, probably with lube, and Clint shivers again as Coulson wiggles the plug, stretching him. “I’m going to take this out now.”

Clint nods, even though he’s not sure Coulson can see him. Clint’s bent forward over Coulson’s desk. He can see the door, but he can’t see Coulson. That’s all right, though. Clint trusts his coach. “Okay.”

Coulson carefully corkscrews the plug out of Clint’s ass, then pushes two fingers in once the plug is out to hold him open and loose. Clint clenches his hole around Coulson’s fingers, more to hear the hiss of indrawn breath than anything else. “You’re a tease, Clint.”

“Just a little incentive, sir,” Clint says with a grin. “I wouldn’t want you to get cold feet.”

“Cold feet?” Coulson replies, chuckling. “I finally have you where I’ve wanted you for weeks - months, if we include try-outs, which I most certainly do - bent over my desk and waiting for my cock. Hungry for it.” There’s a blunt, warm touch to Clint’s hole. “You’re hungry for it, aren’t you, Clint?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Clint groans. It’s almost here. He wants it so bad. “Yes, sir. Coach. _Please._ ”

“Then you’ll get it,” Coulson promises. “I’ll always give you what you want.” And with that, he finally slides in.

Clint gasps. Coulson feels so _big_. He’s different from the plug - warm. “Oh, my god. _Oh._ ”

Coulson holds himself still, half-buried inside of Clint. “How are you doing, my boy?” he asks. He’s got to be fighting the urge to just bury himself to the hilt - Clint can feel the minute shaking that Coulson’s obviously trying to hide - but none of that comes out in his voice. He sounds only calm, gentle, and sweet. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Clint assures him, spreading his legs a little to try and take him deeper. “I’m good. It’s a stretch, but it - _fuck,_ ” he gasps as Coulson slides a little deeper, “it’s good.”

“You just give the word and I’ll back off,” Coulson promises. He tips his hips forward, pulls back, and pushes forward again. “My job is to teach you, not ruin you.”

“You’d never do that, sir,” Clint babbles. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did he never know that it could be this good? “Come on, give me more, I can take it. I can take it all.”

“I know you can,” Coulson assures him. His hips move, but only in frustratingly small increments. “I need to know that you _want_ to, though. I need to know that you’re okay.”

Clint fumbles blindly around behind him, finding one of Coulson’s hands and jerking it forward towards Clint’s groin. He gasps when Coulson’s fingers brush against his hard cock, already wet with pre-come sliding down the shaft.

“I want it,” he promises, trying to get the words out around how _good_ he feels. “I want it all. I want you to give it to me. Please, Coach. Please fuck me harder. I want to be ready. I want to know what it’s like.”

Coulson groans and ruts forward, his cock pushing itself deeper inside of Clint. “ _Yes,_ ” he gasps, “that’s what I’m doing. I’m teaching you so you can take care of this team. You’ll let them all fuck you, won’t you, Clint? You’ll take them all.”

“I will,” Clint promises, the mental image dizzyingly clear. He’ll take them in his bed, in the showers, in the locker room. “I’ll take so much cock, sir. I’ll take it all.”

“You will,” Coulson agrees. He sounds almost drunk, his cock rigidly hard, working in and out of Clint so fast that Clint can only gasp and take it. It feels _fantastic_. “You’re going to be such a good rookie for this team. So beautiful. On your hands and knees taking so much cock. There’ll be come dripping out of your ass by the time they're done.”

“Yes, yes, _yes,_ ” Clint chants. “Give me my first dose, Coach. I want it. I want you to fill me up so good.”

“I will,” Coulson promises. “I will, Clint, I’m coming. I’m coming for you, I’m - _oh!_ ”

He shakes, almost spasms, his cock pushing that extra little bit deeper inside of Clint. Clint braces himself against the desk and takes it, clenching his ass around Coulson’s dick as if he could suck more come out of him.

It feels good, so amazingly good. It feels nothing like getting fucked has ever felt before. Clint had always felt dirty after, used, but right now he feels protected. Coulson’s arms bracket him, one on each side, and his chest is pressed against Clint’s back. 

“Fuck,” Coulson breathes. “God, Clint. That was so good.”

“Mmm,” Clint replies. His hips rock a little as Coulson pulls out of him. He could take more, some part of him _wants_ more, but he also knows that he’ll be sore tomorrow from this alone. Despite how much prep they’ve done, Coulson is definitely larger than the toys they’ve used so far. “That was good, sir.”

“I’m glad,” Coulson tells him, kissing his shoulder. He pulls completely away and then puts a hand on Clint’s shoulder, turning him around. 

Clint goes, bracing himself on the desk behind. “Sir?”

“You’ve been good, Clint,” Coulson tells him, reaching down and trailing a hand over Clint’s cock. “Very good. You’ve trained hard all week. You deserve a reward. Do you want one?”

“Yes?” Clint hazards, unsure what Coulson means. “What - oh god,” he stutters, when Coulson goes to his knees. “Oh, my god.”

“Mm,” Coulson hums, nosing the hairs around Clint’s cock. “So hard. Are you hard for me, Clint?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Clint chokes out. “Oh, yes, sir, _please._ ”

“This is a treat because you’ve been so good,” Coulson reminds him. His tongue darts out to lick the pre-come beading down Clint’s aching cock. “You’re here to service, not to be served, so you can’t expect this often, but I want to suck you once, Clint. Once, when you’re still my rookie but before you belong to the team.”

“I understand,” Clint says, “and I won’t ask again, but please, sir,” he begs, his hips rocking forward, “please suck me off.”

Coulson looks up at him and Clint’s breath catches. Coulson looks _amazing_ on his knees. “I will, Clint.”

And he does. He isn’t as practiced or experienced as Clint is, but his mouth is warm and wet and _perfect_ , all soft cheeks and hard tongue. Clint is already on the edge, his balls tight and _aching_ for release, and even though he wants to savour this, it only takes a few deep, hard sucks before the warning tingle begins in his toes.

“I-I’m going to,” he stutters, hips jerking against the desk, cock sliding in and out of Coulson’s mouth. “C-Coulson, sir, I’m going to - ”

Coulson just sucks him deeper, his hands tight on Clint’s hips, cheeks hollowing, and the tingle that had started in Clint’s feet ratchets up his thighs. He sucks in a breath, chokes, and then he’s coming, coming hard into Coulson’s mouth. Clint’s hips piston forward and he couldn’t stop himself if he wanted to, burying his cock deeper in Coulson’s mouth, almost choking him, as he comes and comes and _comes_ down Coulson’s throat.

“Oh, god,” Clint mutters, his knees going weak. He fumbles blindly, catching himself on Coulson’s desk. “Oh, my god.”

“Mm,” Coulson hums, sounding satisfied. He shifts back onto his heels and wipes his mouth, and fuck if that image isn’t the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Clint’s knees give out and he tumbles forward. Only Coulson’s hand on his chest prevents him from face planting into the floor.

“Easy, there,” Coulson says, his voice a distant rumble. “You’ve had quite a day, haven’t you? It’s okay, Clint. Let’s get you onto the couch.”

Clint tries to make a noise of agreement, but everything is kind of fuzzy. He blinks a moment later and sees Coulson leaning over him, his kind face creased in concern. Clint realizes he’s lying on his back on a familiar soft surface and, oh right, Coulson’s couch.

“Hi, Coach,” he says.

Coulson smiles. “You’re back with me, then?”

“Yes,” Clint agrees. He feels - well, pretty wonderful, actually, but also woozy. “Did I just manfully pass out?”

“You did,” Coulson tells him, chuckling. “I hadn’t realized my cock sucking skills were so fabulous.”

“They were amazing,” Clint answers honestly. “Really, really fucking good.”

“That’s good to know, then,” Coulson says. He smiles, bending down to press a kiss to Clint’s forehead. “Come on, then, let’s get you back to your room. You need to sleep tonight. Rest and recover. Tomorrow’ll be a busy day.”

“Yes, it will,” Clint agrees. Tomorrow he meets the rest of his teammates, and the formal dinner when he receives his rookie status is tomorrow night. 

Of course, that doesn’t mean he needs to sleep alone tonight. Clint grins up at Coulson winningly. “Will you help me back to my room, sir?”

Coulson’s eyes twinkle. “Are you sure you need the assistance, rookie?”

“Oh, definitely, sir,” Clint promises him. “One hundred percent.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Once a Rookie...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2535227) by Anonymous 
  * [Making The Team](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2568461) by [Mad_Muse_Musings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Muse_Musings/pseuds/Mad_Muse_Musings)




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